Czajka, Moratorium of Death
"Czajka the most eloquent orb of the night, in darkness his visage seduces on sight. Endowing those willing with gifts of the tongue, he grants life in fullness to those who die young." Story Heading "No way mort', you have no idea what you'll be missing out on, Shadar-Kai parties are on another plane!" The human of lithe frame almost resembled the pale skinned race he spoke of. Seated on a lounge, his fingertips ran hungrily through a powdered black mineral as sweat dripped down his neck. Fiddle and index finger on each finger held tightly together before brushing the powder over his eyelids, generously around the sockets. Almost instantly his neck threw veins out violently against the walls of his skin as if trying to escape. Reeling in his seat as sweat mixed with solid, the salve began to take in also his tears, dripping slowly down the edges of his face. With lids open, eyes entirely jet black erupted from their homes manic and electric as if all of the universe's truths belonged to their owner. "Chadwick. My mort', we have been slummin' for a week and I feel like death but not in that fun kind of styling. Y'know?" Durke Kris spoke softly, his tone contrasting the usually booming howl of his party-cry that would rupture from this huge fellow. Rippling with muscles, many would ensure a free table between themselves and him not knowing of his easy going and gentle nature. The land was affecting poor Durke and although his mouth would not speak it, his heart longed for his mother. He felt lost in this place and like a child craved his wise mother's guidance in this strange soul sucking land. "Ham and I want to go back. It's been two weeks of nothing but feeling like hot and then cold and then hot again garbage. The only time we ever seem to be able to move is when we're all hopped up on herbs and even then sometimes we travel backwards." Their companion Ham nodded knowingly, a thing he did frequently despite knowing barely more than basic body function. "Home was happy." "I can't even behold you morts rght now. You promised me the bender of a lifetime to a place of my choosing and I wanna shindig down with black crown chick-a-dees at a Shadar-Kai Party. This is Minotaur shit my brethren. If you're not going to stay with me, I'll go without you." The exclamation came from a dark place, a heady mix of drug fuelled psychosis and organic anger towards his friends. "If you don't want to go with me, I'll happily go myself and you sacks of sadness can wallow while I revel." The afflicted Chadwick stood, chest undulating while fingers each flexed and slicked rapidly. "No? Calling you dickweeds is an insult to weeds. Laters." Six days passed since Chadwick had seen his two friends, people he had grown up with. People he thought he would have died for before they decided not to follow him on his path to party greatness. Town by town, he got closer to the Shadar-kai, and in through each place, he met more downtrodden people who shook their head at his persuit of happiness. This land really sapped the life out of everyone. Everyone but Chadwick, he wouldn't let it stop him from partying with the best, it was his eternal dream. Fifteen days of trecking, finding more shopkeeps who could barely stand at their service desk and businesses with 'closed due to lethargy' signs. Finally, Chadwick came accross a fateful encounter where he made an agreement with a farmer bringing a cart into town. "I am taking this cart far into the wastes away from any towns." Chadwick looked puzzled at the man but was keen at the prospect. "You don't have anything in your cart to transportXXX The Self Sacrificing Moon The Grey Wastes are a land that actively saps life from all things. Nature and light magic are stunted, crops and vegetation seem hard to grow and depression feels like a sticky swamp that few can get out of. Living in the grey wastes is a hard existence. Czajka paves the way for a monthly reprieve. Once every thirty days, this oddly pear-shaped moon sweeps in front of the resident sun and eclipses. Rotating in full juxtaposition it flips causing a great shift in appearance. Shadows cast over its face much differently than before and with reasonable distinction begins to resemble a grinning skull. This land's life sapping nature ceases near immediately. The weight of the land is lifted from all living things and as such the sheer presence of the moon is hailed as a benevolent martyr that drinks its fill of suffering for a day before going taking it elsewhere. It is for this reason that in other places around Paracelsus, Czajka is seen as a bad omen, thought to shower misfortune on all under its erratic spiralling path. This path is the longest of all the moons and as Czajka visits its protected land once a month, it also allows Czajka able to boast as the fastest orbiting body of all the moons. Czajka will rotate around the planet ten times slowly making its way from one side of the planet to the other. Once migrating the entire distance of the planet and flipping another 180°, the process repeats. This one day is looked forward to by all in the land. Harvest is possible and all celebrate where feasts are often held in thanks to Czajka. Trees near death will fruit and reminded that survival is possible, many mortals find the desire to breed. Children born under Czajka's eclipse are considered auspicious and seem to resist the effects of the land better than others. Those that can escape the mental swamp that is depression enough to leave the grey wastes tend to be those born under a Czajka eclipse. Children of the Moratorium Czajka is revered by select few groups in the Grey Wastes who see him as their all inspiring father. Regarded as a benevolent carer who is deeply empathic to the woes of those suffering beneath, the Shadar-Kai clans have developed their lifestyle in persuit of the ecstacy Czajka delivers. While most mortal races feast and revel until eclipse passes, the Shadar-Kai of this world keep the party going all month long. Seemingly able to shirk off the thick ooze of apathy that seeps into the pores of heart and mind alike, few individuals of non Shadar-kai gene have been known to keep up. Still susceptable yet less vulnerable to the Grey Waste's onslaught, every day of the calendar is a celebration of life itself and the pleasures of the flesh. Indulging in as many bacchanals and wild feats as mortally possible, all are welcome to join these communities despite few being able to say they have. Shadar-Kai communes are few but are openly hospitable to visitors. Notable camps include The Alabaster Nomads, Grinreap Circus and The Persuit of Long Dread. It is custom to have tents for guests that are often never used. Despite the nature of Shadar-Kai to move about as their wanderlusting hearts dictate, the same unused tents are set up every time just in case they may one day play host to more people than ever before.